


long-distance lockdown

by harlequin87



Category: Formula E RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:08:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24375538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harlequin87/pseuds/harlequin87
Summary: But then, after the high of his win in Marrakech, the races started to be cancelled, and before they knew it, they – the continent, the world – had gone into lockdown. More than two thousand kilometres between them, and António would be lying if he said he doesn’t feel every single one with each beat of his heart.
Relationships: António Félix da Costa/Robin Frijns
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	long-distance lockdown

**Author's Note:**

> Because sometimes you just have to write some Gaydretti, you know? I hope you enjoy, and stay safe out there.

António smiles to himself as he settles down on the sofa to call Robin. His brother is cooking one of his fancy restaurant meals in the kitchen, the dogs are crowding him to be allowed up next to him, and the late evening sun glances off the pool through the glass doors. Given everything that is going on in the world right now, he’s happy.

And talking to his boyfriend? That will always make him happy.

He clicks on his recent calls, the page virtually filled with Robin’s signature sleepy/grumpy face with half-closed eyes. He grins and taps on the contact, waiting for the Dutchman to pick up.

They speak most days, mostly over Whatsapp but also during COD and sim racing events. It’s still strange, not seeing Robin in the paddock every couple of weeks or in his hotel room or his bed. He doesn’t want to – he _can’t_ get used to it. Pedro tries, bless him, but it’s not the same.

“Robin!” he cheers as the video connects. “Hey, man.” He checks the camera angle in the corner of the screen quickly, raising his phone a touch. Only the best for Robin, after all.  
“Hey, Toni,” his boyfriend replies softly. He doesn’t seem to have the same concerns about his appearance. He is scrunched up at the end of his sofa, lit dimly by a single lamp at the edge of the frame.

António does the maths in his head. Maastricht is one hour ahead, so it would be darker there anyway – about 9pm – but that doesn’t explain why Robin hasn’t turned more lights on. “How are you?” he asks, trying to tamp down his enthusiasm. Sometimes his boyfriend has days like these, when he is quiet and withdrawn, and he doesn’t want to overwhelm him.

“I’m just tired,” Robin murmurs. The arm holding the phone seems to droop in confirmation of his words.  
“Are you sleeping enough?” António asks, exuberance turning to worry. “I know you’ve got all these sim races, but you don’t have to practise for too long-”

Robin heaves out a sigh, world-weary. “Trust me, Toni, I’ve been doing nothing but sleeping. I go out in the garden, I go on the sim, and I sleep. That’s it.”  
António chews at his lip. “You are talking to people? Your brother, your parents?”

“Yeah. I had a chat with Sam earlier, but that was just – it made me feel worse, in a way. He has Hollie, and Buddy, and I’m here in my house, alone.” António opens his mouth to speak, but Robin interrupts, a slight frown on his face. “I just feel like shit at the moment, man. I love you and I don’t want you feeling bad too. Tell me what you did today.”

Pushing down his concern, António does his best to dredge up his earlier enthusiasm. If Robin wants to be distracted by him talking about surfing, then he is going to do his best to cheer up his man. He waffles on about the air temperature and the water temperature and how his hair is growing out to make him look like a proper surfer – Robin cracks a smile at that and António feels like he’s flying.

When he’s run out of surfing anecdotes – which doesn’t take long, given Robin is always the first person he tells them to – he moves on to the dogs. He holds the phone further away to get Taco into the shot from where the little dog is curled in his lap, then flips the camera to show where Glock is slumped on the floor, dozing.

By the end of his impromptu recital, Robin looks a bit less morose. “DTM testing starts soon, right?” António asks engagingly, hoping to rouse some enthusiasm from the other man.  
“Should be in two weeks,” his boyfriend confirms, glancing at something out of shot.

“And that’s good, yeah?” António smiles. “Get back in the car, see the boys again?”  
Robin shrugs, jostling the camera. “It’s fine. I just-” his eyes are suddenly shining with tears- “every time I think about it, I remember that week we were going to have together, after Paris, and I hate everything.” His voice cracks and the first tears fall. “I want to see you, for real, and hug you and kiss you.”

All of António’s earlier good mood has been eroded. He’s upset about their spoiled plans too, but he's managing to bury them with surfing and gaming and working out. Robin, all alone in his house, clearly isn’t doing so well.

After the Paris ePrix, they were supposed to have driven straight to Robin’s house near Maastricht. They were supposed to have spent the whole week there, then António was going to support Robin in the DTM race at Zolder. They were supposed to have ten full days together, the longest uninterrupted stretch of time since the Andretti days, before his Techeetah responsibilities took him back to the factory. It was supposed to be perfect.

But then, after the high of his win in Marrakech, the races started to be cancelled, and before they knew it, they – the continent, the world – had gone into lockdown. More than two thousand kilometres between them, and António would be lying if he said he doesn’t feel every single one with each beat of his heart.

“I want that too,” he says thickly. “I miss you so much, man.”  
Robin smiles at him wetly. “Come on, man, you can’t cry as well! Think about your poor brother.”  
António scoffs, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “He’s making dinner – he wouldn’t notice if the house fell down, he’s that into it.”

He takes a breath to settle himself. He has to be strong, for both of them. “How’s your garden, anyway? Got anything nice in it yet?”  
“Nothing as nice as your pool,” Robin grumbles, but the fondness in his tone tells António that he is resolved to improve the atmosphere just as much as him.

In the same way as António had held forth on surfing and the beaches of Cascais, Robin rambles about the new kind of compost he’d had delivered and how he might have planted the beans out too early in the wind. António lets himself sink into the warmth of his boyfriend’s voice, comforted by the lilting Dutch edge to the words.

“Oh – I almost forgot! I have some little sunflower plants too,” Robin says, beaming. “They remind me of you!”  
António can’t stop a frown. “You think I’m like a plant?” he says slowly.

“No, Toni,” Robin laughs. “They’re going to be all tall and majestic and golden – like you. Sunflowers like the sun, as well.”  
“And they’ll be taller than you?” António asks, struggling to contain his own laughter.

Robin hmphs. “I’ll send you a photo when they’re fully grown.”  
“Make it a selfie,” António shoots back. “Then I can get Lando to photoshop my face on to the flower, and you can look at me and smile.”

“I do that anyway,” Robin says, in that disarmingly sweet way of his.  
“Naww, man.” António ducks his head. “Love you.”  
“I love you too.”

Then Pedro is calling through from the kitchen for him to set the table for dinner. He jumps, checking the time. They’ve been talking for forty minutes. “I’ve got to go, man,” he says sadly, watching Robin’s face drop. Even the digital partings are hard at the minute.

“That’s okay,” the Dutchman replies, fingers coming up to touch the camera. “Call tomorrow?”  
“For sure, man,” António murmurs.  
“Get your brother to give you a hug from me, yeah?” Robin adds with a wry grin. “It’s the best you’ll get for now.”

“You make sure to hug yourself too,” António says, mock-fierce. “I expect to hear all about it tomorrow.” Pedro shouts through again, and he stands up, shaking out his stiff legs. “Love you, Robin.”  
“I will,” Robin promises. “Love you, Toni.”

The call ends, leaving him with a blank screen and the seed of an idea germinating in his mind.

*

A few days later, Robin’s pottering out in his garden, weeding between his precious sunflowers shining in the morning light, when he hears the doorbell ring. Before, his heart would have jumped, thinking Toni might be paying him a surprise visit, but now? Not a chance.

He wipes his hands on the old shorts he’s wearing and heads to the front door. He opens it to see a parcel on the front step and a delivery driver waving at him from the road. Robin nods back and picks up the box.

He doesn’t remember ordering anything recently. Maybe Audi or Envision sent him something without mentioning it? He picks up a pair of scissors and carefully cuts through the tape sealing the package.

He opens it, blinks in confusion. There’s an Andretti hoodie lying innocently in the box. He shakes it out and checks the inside label to see if it’s named. Then he sees the note it was concealing, sat on a stack of chocolate.

_Robin-_

_I know I can’t be there to hug you in person, but this is the best I could do._

_Eu te amo._

_Toni_

He looks back at the jumper. _Oh._ He sniffs it to confirm his suspicion. Yes, it’s one of Toni’s hoodies from the days when they were teammates, and it smells like him.

Ignoring the heat, Robin shrugs it on and goes back outside. Somehow it’s like having Toni there with him; he could have just popped into another room for a minute.

He squats down by the sunflowers, their petals just starting to show, and takes a selfie for his boyfriend. It’s the clearest way for him to say-

_Ik hou van jou._


End file.
